


Comfortable

by Black_Crystal_Dragon



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angel Wings, Established Relationship, Fluff, Love, M/M, Seduction, Sexual Content, Teasing, Undressing, Wings, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-07
Updated: 2007-01-07
Packaged: 2019-04-25 22:34:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14388510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black_Crystal_Dragon/pseuds/Black_Crystal_Dragon
Summary: Crowley’s flat is too hot for Aziraphale’s comfort.





	Comfortable

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bombay_gin](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=bombay_gin).



> Inspired by a beautiful piece of art by [bombay_gin](https://bombay-gin.livejournal.com/), which was titled 'Under My Voodoo'. Sadly it's no longer online. This is not my best work, but I'm feeling nostalgically fond of it.
> 
> Archived to AO3 21 April 2018.

Crowley slumped in the armchair closest to the door, tugging off his jacket and muttering to himself. Aziraphale carefully hung up his coat by the door, then took the demon’s from where it had been carelessly thrown over the back of the sofa and hung that up too. Crowley shook his head at Aziraphale. “You didn’t have to do that. While you’re up anyway, go and get us something to drink. You know where it is.”  
  
Aziraphale disappeared into the kitchen with a smile. Crowley closed his eyes and slouched even further down in his seat, glad that they were inside, out of the rain and the wind and the _cold_. He reached up to his collar and unfastened his tie and the top buttons of his shirt. After a minute, he called to Aziraphale, “Got lost in there, angel?”  
  
“No, my dear,” Aziraphale replied. Crowley could hear the smile in his voice. “You just have such an extensive collection of spirits I’m afraid I’m having a hard time choosing …”  
  
The demon snorted, unfastening his cufflinks and rolling his shirt sleeves up to his elbows. “Well you take your time, we have all night.”  
  
Aziraphale’s laugh carried through into the lounge as Crowley squirmed further down into the chair so that he could rest the back of his neck on the armchair’s low back, upping the room temperature by a couple of degrees as he did so. He could feel his body heat creeping higher and languished in the warmth.  
  
“Crowley?” Aziraphale’s voice came from the doorway; the demon didn’t have to open his eyes to know that he was frowning. “It’s very warm in here.”  
  
Crowley sighed deeply. “Enjoy it, angel – it’s freezing outside, and I’m willing to bet it’s freezing in that hole you call home, too …”  
  
Crowley cracked open one eye to find Aziraphale giving him an ever-so-slightly-hurt look and holding out a wineglass with something dark and sweet-smelling in it. The demon took it, and tried not to look too repentant as he took a sip.  
  
“Good choice, angel,” he said, instead of ‘I’m sorry’, soothing Aziraphale’s bruised feelings. The angel’s lips twitched upwards a little as he brought his own glass to his lips and tilted it up. Crowley closed his eyes again, resting the glass on the arm of the chair. They sat in silence for a while, enjoying the red wine, then --  
  
“It really is too hot in here, my dear.”  
  
The demon opened his eyes and stared at Aziraphale. The fool was still wearing his horrible scratchy jacket and his old-fashioned waistcoat, Crowley noticed with a sigh. He hadn’t even taken his tie off. The demon shook his head irritably, closing his eyes once more. “Just take some layers off, Aziraphale – it’s lovely so long as you’re not all muffled up.”  
  
He heard the angel’s huff of quiet laughter and the chink of glass-on-glass as Aziraphale put his wine down on the coffee table. There was a rustle of fabric; Crowley smiled slightly. “Better, angel?”  
  
“Oh, yes,” Aziraphale smiled. “Much better, my dear. And before I forget, I must thank you for coming out with me today – I know how you hate winter, especially Christmas time, and –”  
  
“That,” Crowley said firmly, “Is the understatement of – of – of both this millennium _and_ the last.”  
  
The angel chuckled, and Crowley felt his own lips quirking upwards at the sound. Aziraphale continued after a moment, “Anyway, thank you. You didn’t have to come, but you did.”  
  
Crowley thought about saying, _If I’d said no, you would have given me that awful reproachful look, the one that’s pretty much the only thing that makes me feel guilty_ , but didn’t. That would be admitting to actually feeling guilt, and then Aziraphale would never let it drop. He took a sip of his wine and replied instead, “Probably did me good.”  
  
He heard the angel stand, the leather of Crowley’s white sofa squeaking as he did so, and start moving about the flat, and wondered what Aziraphale was doing. Then he felt Aziraphale’s presence by the side of his chair and opened his eyes as the angel took his wineglass. Crowley watched, his smile fading to a look of pleasant surprise, as Aziraphale unfolded himself and padded across the white carpet to the coffee table to set it beside his own.  
  
The angel was unashamedly naked from head to foot, and he had that self-satisfied sort of smile he always got when he actually managed to surprise Crowley. Then Crowley’s smile returned, warm and lazy and just on the wrong side of a smirk. He raised one eyebrow. “You really were warm.”  
  
Aziraphale’s smooth, natural laugh softened Crowley’s expression by a fraction. The angel strolled around the couch, allowing his wings to unfurl behind him as he moved. He paused across the room from Crowley, stretching them, then sauntered forwards, beat his wings once to lift him into the air, and settled on Crowley’s lap, his legs dangling over the chair’s arms. The demon gasped in surprised, his hands twitching as if to catch Aziraphale in case he fell, but he didn’t, and instead Crowley settled for running them up and down the angel’s thighs, amusement dancing in his hidden eyes.  
  
“And you were right,” Aziraphale said playfully, resting his hands on the demon’s belly. “It is nice, so long as you’re not all muffled up.”  
  
Slowly, Crowley reached up and pulled off his sunglasses then dropped his hand back down to rest against the angel’s knee, gently swinging the tinted lenses so that they tapped against Aziraphale’s leg. The angel moved one of his hands, sliding it up his own leg and then back to rest on Crowley’s thigh, the almost-annoying smile still in place. “You don’t mind, do you my dear?”  
  
The demon’s lazy smirk returned gradually as the angel spoke. He walked the fingers of his free hand around from the top of Aziraphale’s thigh to tickle at the back of his knee; Aziraphale twitched and he chuckled. “Mind? Why should I mind when I have such a lovely view?”  
  
Despite his confidence before, Crowley saw a faint pink tinge blossom in the angel’s cheeks at that. Aziraphale slid his hand up Crowley’s body, paused at his throat to feel the pulse beating under the demon’s skin, then caught hold of his chin. “Don’t be cheeky.”  
  
“But you _love_ it,” Crowley replied, his slitted eyes twinkling mischievously as he ran his fingers up and down the angel’s leg. Aziraphale bent over him, his wind-tousled, rain-curled hair falling around and sticking to his face, and his wings flexing and rustling behind his head.  
  
“I love _you_ ,” he replied, closing the gap between them and pressing his lips to the demon’s before Crowley could pull his much used mock-disgusted face. Crowley lifted his palm to the side of the angel’s throat, his fingers curling around the back of his neck and shifting up to tangle in the curls at the nape.  
  
Aziraphale made a soft, contented noise at the back of his throat as he slid his hand from Crowley’s chin to his neck to tilt the demon’s head as he parted his lips to give him access to his mouth. Crowley shifted under him and the angel pulled back a fraction, chuckling against the demon’s lips. “Impatient.”  
  
“Wouldn’t you be?” Crowley murmured impatiently, pushing up into another, much shorter kiss. Aziraphale stroked the demon’s jawbone as he leant back, his fingers tightening almost imperceptibly on Crowley’s thigh. The demon skimmed his hand downwards from Aziraphale’s neck, finally coming to rest with his fingertips barely touching the angel’s belly.  
  
Then he pushed himself up, catching Aziraphale off guard; he gasped and beat his wings and just managed to stop himself from falling backwards by grapping at Crowley’s shoulders. The demon wrapped his arm around Aziraphale’s waist and smirked as he lowed his head to kiss the angel’s neck, the kisses turning to sharp nips as he worked his way down his collarbone. Aziraphale wrapped his arms around the demon’s shoulders, chuckling as he pulled him closer still. “That wasn’t fair.”  
  
“I’m a _demon_ ,” Crowley reminded him, his voice muffled against Aziraphale’s skin, his breath shifting the angel’s hair. “I’m all for _not fair_.”  
  
Crowley finished that statement with a sharp bite to Aziraphale’s neck. The angel let out a yelp at the unexpected flush of pain and squirmed in his grasp. “Crowley!”  
  
The demon pulled back, smirking, and pressed a wet kiss to the tender, reddened skin. Aziraphale gave him a disapproving look. Crowley snorted and wrapped his other arm around the angel, tapping the small of his back with his sunglasses. “Oh, stop complaining. If you wanted to, you could’ve got rid of it by now.”  
  
The blush returned to Aziraphale’s cheeks, darker this time, and Crowley chuckled, nuzzling into the angel’s neck. He dragged his teeth across the skin, not hard enough to bruise, and muttered, “D’you know what would be really unfair?”  
  
Aziraphale slid the fingers of one hand into Crowley’s slicked back hair, making it stick up at all angels in a way that would irritate the demon when he came to look in the mirror later, holding him in place. The demon continued without waiting for Aziraphale’s answer. “If you decided that, after all this, you were going to _go_ …”  
  
It was Aziraphale’s burst of laughter that made Crowley look up, his eyes guarded and suspicious. The angel shook his head, pulling Crowley in for a deep kiss that lasted a lot longer than he had originally intended. Finally, Aziraphale pulled back and smiled at him. “It’s getting late. Perhaps we ought to get to bed, hmm?”  
  
Crowley grinned and kissed the angel again, running his tongue over Aziraphale’s lower lip before biting down. Aziraphale pulled back with a gasp and Crowley took advantage of his open mouth, pressing into a kiss and sliding his tongue between the angel’s lips to dance with Aziraphale’s.  
  
Then he stood up, lifting the angel with him; and Aziraphale made a strangled noise of protestation against Crowley’s lips and clung to him, wrapping his legs around the demon’s waist and throwing his arms about his neck. He tried to pull out of the kiss, probably to complain, but Crowley had already trailed one hand up his spine to the back of his neck and pulled him closer again. Finally, Crowley pulled back and smirked. “You thought I was going to drop you, you daft thing.”  
  
Aziraphale didn’t meet his gaze. Crowley chuckled, cuddling Aziraphale a little closer for a moment.  
  
“I wouldn’t drop you,” he stated, taking a step forwards. Aziraphale’s limbs tightened around him and his wings twisted and beat the air furiously, and Crowley sighed deeply. “You still want to be taken to bed, don’t you? Well then stop squirming and let me take you there, angel.”  
  
Aziraphale smiled somewhat sheepishly, burying his face in Crowley’s shoulder and closing his eyes. He muttered something that made Crowley smirk and press a kiss to his shoulder. “That’s better. And of course I intend to _take you_ , angel, otherwise what’s the bloody point?”  
  
He picked his way across the room, brushing past the foliage of terrorised pot-plants that almost seemed to shrink back from him, to the bedroom door, satisfied with the knowledge that Aziraphale was blushing scarlet. The door opened as Crowley approached and closed quietly behind them once they had passed through.

~

Later – much later, when it was dark and the only light was the horrible orange light-pollution from the streetlamps below – Aziraphale pushed open the door and tiptoed across the carpet to collect the glasses. He was still naked, and his wings were out, their feathers askew. He drained the glasses on his way to the kitchen – no sense in wasting fine wine – and went over to the sink.  
  
He was drying the second glass when Crowley came up behind him and slid his hands onto the angel’s belly, nuzzling between his wings. Aziraphale set the glass down and looked over his shoulder, shifting his wing out of the way so that he could see Crowley, who was regarding him solemnly over the top of his sunglasses. “You weren’t there when I woke up.”  
  
“I didn’t think you were going to wake up. Normally, you sleep so deeply you don’t even notice if I get up …”  
  
“I noticed this time,” Crowley muttered drowsily, trailing kisses up Aziraphale’s back to his shoulder. The angel sighed as Crowley’s lethargic fingers carded through his feathers, gently settling them back into place. Crowley bit his shoulder gently then licked over the fast fading white marks where his teeth had been.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale murmured, reaching behind him to take hold of Crowley’s other hand. The demon looked up, the dark lenses obscuring his eyes and showing Aziraphale nothing but a dim reflection of himself. “Back to bed, my dear?”  
  
Crowley nodded and allowed Aziraphale lead him by the hand back into the bedroom. However, half-way to the bed, Crowley stopped and gave Aziraphale’s hand a sharp tug, and the angel turned to face him, frowning. Before he could speak, Crowley pulled on his hand again, tugging Aziraphale into his arms, and kissed him furiously. Aziraphale made a noise that sounded a lot like, “Urk”, but didn’t protest when Crowley pushed him backwards until he was standing against the bed.  
  
Aziraphale had the foresight to sit down on the edge of the bed before he was shoved backwards onto it and had his wings crushed somewhat painfully under his own weight; Crowley crawled onto his lap. Eventually, he pulled back, panting. “Don’t go anywhere.”  
  
The angel snorted. “If you think I’m going anywhere, you’ve got another thing coming.”  
  
Crowley gave him an unimpressed sort of look, then climbed off his knee and crawled across the bed, giving Aziraphale room to swing his legs up. “You know what I meant, angel.”  
  
Aziraphale curled his fingers about the back of Crowley’s neck and drew him into a deep kiss, rolling the demon underneath him while he couldn’t protest. Crowley clung to the angel’s forearms, his fingers leaving red marks that would turn to bruises in the night. Then Aziraphale pulled back and, smiling the beatific smile of a saint, murmured, “I know what you meant. And I won’t. You know I won’t, you daft old serpent.”  
  
“Sssh’tup,” Crowley hissed, his eyes dark and sleepy and burning gold in the darkness. He hooked an arm around Aziraphale’s neck and dragged him back down, pressing their lips together and slipping his tongue into the angel’s mouth again. Aziraphale smiled into the kiss and twisted his hips so that certain parts of his anatomy came up against the demon’s, making them both gasp as they pulled apart.  
  
Then Crowley shivered deliciously against the angel, shifting restlessly under him and making not-particularly-demonic little whimpery noises that told Aziraphale everything he needed to know about _want_ and _need_ and _love_ far more eloquently than the demon could ever manage.  
  
Aziraphale bent his head and buried his face in Crowley’s neck for a moment, breathing deep to catch his scent, which was as intoxicating as the smell of dark-chocolate and musty old books and vintage red wine. When he bit down in retaliation for the crescent-shapes bruises covering his own neck and shoulders, Crowley’s breath spilled out in a rush along with a couple of words he wouldn’t admit to later. Aziraphale smiled and rocked his hips up against the demon’s again, as if Crowley wasn’t already thrusting his body against Aziraphale’s desperately enough.  
  
And then Crowley’s fingers skimmed up his back and found the base of his wings, where the bones with their sensitive nerves were covered only by a thin layer of skin and downy feathers, and Aziraphale came apart and took the demon over the edge with him.  
  
Aziraphale rolled off Crowley onto his side, but the demon moved with him and pressed his face into his shoulder, already mostly asleep. The angel winched in his wings a little more indolently than usual and rolled onto his back. Instantly, Crowley squirmed until he was half on top of him and then went still, his breathing becoming slower and slower as he drifted into sleep.  
  
Aziraphale chuckled and reached up to stroke his tousled hair back into place. After a moment, he whispered, “I’ll be right here when you wake up, Crowley, my dear.”  
  
The demon shifted against Aziraphale, snuggling closer. He pressed his lips to one of the more livid bruises on the angel’s neck.  
  
“You’d better be,” he muttered without opening his eyes. His lips quirked up in a smile as Aziraphale’s soft laughter lulled him into real sleep.


End file.
